


Pretzels

by moonshoe



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, JUST KILL ME, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6123065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshoe/pseuds/moonshoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he wanted was a pretzel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretzels

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, sure, it's cute and fluffy... but then it gets smutty because I'm trash and I didn't know where this would lead but just look what happened. I wanted to write something about them with the intention of getting my life back, but it only made me more frustrated and bitter lol. This is my first post, and I hate that it ended up being explicit, I can't control myself. There's also a lot of swearing, I noticed belatedly when I scanned it after writing it, so sorry about that. Anyway. Enjoy whatever the hell this is as we all fall deeper into this abyss of angst and lemme know how you feel about it. Maybe we can cry together

“DRESS SHIRTS ON SALE!” the H&M sign screamed in red letters from the shop window as he passed by the glass. He stepped inside, the quiet roar of the atrium of the mall dampened by the walls of the department store. Looking to his left, he smiled as he saw the giant hair bows that had silhouettes of elephants and gold glitter covering the fabric. The smile fell a bit, thinking about how he wanted to wear shit like that. “I could,” he thought to himself, “but it’s just a stupid whim. Needs over wants,” he thought resignedly as he stood on his tiptoes looking for the men’s section. 

Flipping though hangers, all he saw were either obscure teeny shirts made out of what looked like fishnets, or giant, colorless, boring collared shirts that he could’ve picked up at fucking SEARS. He sighed, turning around to look outside of the sale section, even though he told himself he wouldn’t lower his price expectations. When he turned, he saw a man with a pair of sewing scissors making a teeny incision in a pair of expensive jeans. The man looked over at him and smiled knowingly. Not wanting to be a witness to whatever-the-hell crime was unfolding before him, he immediately found an outfit on a mannequin that he hadn’t seen when he came in. It looked casual but well thought out, with a royal blue floral patterned long sleeved shirt and black jeans. He wanted to get the hell out of there. He made sure he could afford it, found the right size, and headed for the checkout line. 

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twelve minutes. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Too goddamn many—the line hadn’t moved at all. He didn’t even have anywhere else to be, but when he shifted his place in line to look at what the problem was, he saw the same man at the counter, brandishing the jeans angrily at the store employee. He understood—this jackass was trying to get a discount on “faulty clothing.” “What a dick,” he thought angrily, “I just want a damn pretzel before I can leave this germ and coffee-getting-mothers-over-40 infested shopping mall, but this cheapskate thinks his time is more valuable than anyone els—“ He was shoved to the side during his internal rant. Looking behind him, he saw the man leave with the jeans. Apparently he’d gotten away with it. He kinda had a cute butt. “Doesn’t matter if you have a good ass if you are an ass,” he thought. 

Leaving the store, he got to the pretzel stand, already knowing what he wanted, but pretending to look at the menu once he got there to not look like he went there all the goddamn time. “Huh,” he said, hand on his chin, “I guess I’ll have the cinnamon—“ Wham. He was shoved to the side again and he caught a smell of cheap cologne that smelled half decent, but it wasn’t enough to stop his hissy fit… especially when he saw it was the same asshole that shoved him in the store. 

“BITCH!” he yelled as he spun around, without really considering the consequences. The man turned around (he was sad to say, because his ass actually was pretty great), and met his eyes. Immediately, the man’s eyebrows furrowed and he strode toward him with one of his hands deep in his jeans pockets, the other clutching the H&M scandal. The woman at the pretzel stand back-stepped to the corner next to a lemonade machine. The man seemed to be giving him time to reconsider his exclamation. 

Looking defiantly up at the abrasive stranger, he felt as though he really should take it down a fucking notch or two. It’s not even that big of a deal, but he’s committed now. He just yelled “bitch” in a public shopping mall. People were staring. He’d never been one to turn down an audience. 

The man, patience apparently worn out, grabbed him around the front of the shirt. “Jesus, this guy’s ripped as fuck,” he thought distantly as he was being pulled to eye level with the tall assface. But. His face wasn’t like an ass. Goddammit, he was pretty. His eyes scanned over the man’s face. He probably looked ridiculous. Who gave him the right to be an awful person and physically attractive? “I guess that’s just the algorithm—you need balance. Maybe he has a tiny dick,” he half-hoped. This guy was pissing him off. He hated that he was attracted to him. He still didn’t break eye contact. 

“What the fuck is your problem, kid?” He finally spoke, softly, so only the two of them were in on the conversation (despite the small crowd of people that were actively pretending to not eavesdrop on the proceedings). “You want a death wish? You can’t call strangers out like that, you’ll get killed.” 

He put him down on the ground again. 

“Why is he softening? What the fuck? Why do I not have internal bleeding by now?” he thought, shocked, as the man even had the gall to smile at him. 

“What the FUCK, stop that,” he thought. He smiled back at the man. “WhAT THE FUCK, STOP that!” he told himself. He couldn’t. 

“I don’t have a problem, but you seem to. What’d you end up doing with that $4.00 you saved on jeans? Buy yourself a nice key chain?” he said with a bit of sass, pretending to smooth out the front of his shirt. The man’s mouth twitched. 

“Don’t knock $4.00, kid. For all you know, I could have a piggy bank filled with my many $4.00 adventures, waiting for one big reason to spend it all.” 

“Yeah, adventures,” he thought. “More like rip-offs.” 

“And what shape would this piggy bank assume? Something to match your personality, maybe… maybe Oscar the Grouch? Voldemort? Or maybe an actual pig?

“Now who’s being the bitch?” the man smiled, crossing his arms and looking down at him. “What’s your name?” 

He sighed. All he wanted was a pretzel. 

“I’m Luke. Gimme a sec.” He turned and caught the attention of the pretzel lady. The rest of their onlookers went on to their boring lives, clearly disappointed in the lack of confrontation that took place. He told her what he wanted, paid, and turned back around, half surprised to see the man still there. He took a big bite, jutting his jaw out indignantly but satisfied that he was getting his intended impression across—Luke didn’t want this guy to think he was flirting. All he wanted was a goddamn pretzel. 

“Whatcsch yoursch?” He asked, mouth full and not hiding it. 

“Han,” the man said, smiling down at this adorable and ridiculous kid clutching a pretzel who was looking at him like he was still deciding what he wanted out of the exchange.

“Alright, Han. Well, I’m gonna leave. Malls are gross, and I want to go rollerblading,” Luke said loftily, turning. When his back was to this handsome asshole, he realized that he kinda didn’t want to say goodbye so quickly. He made quite a DEAL out of getting some napkins from the pretzel stands, taking his damn time, before he heard a soft and low chuckle from right behind him. 

“What a coincidence. I’m going rollerblading, too,” Han lied. He hated rollerblading. He fell on his ass every time. What was he doing? Why was he making these decisions over someone who just called him a bitch? “Do you have a ride to the… to the place? The. The, uh. “Shit,” he thought. 

“Roller rink?” said Luke, very smugly. He knew Han was lying, but he looked forward to returning the favor of shoving the dickhead straight into the plastic or cement or whatever-the-fuck floor of the roller rink. Luke thought of retribution… and of Han’s ass. He smiled and stifled a giggle. “No, I don’t have a ride. I was gonna catch a bus. Why, you offering?” He knew the answer. 

“I mean, if you want, we’re going to the same place. Save the planet, save gas, is all. No big deal,” Han tried hard to sound casual, and obviously failed miserably. He knew it, Luke knew it… Han knew that Luke knew it. 

“…Yeah. Yeah, I’m offering,” he grinned. Luke returned it (“SHIT, STOP that. He’s not even that gorgeous). 

The parking lot was nearly empty. Han and Luke were walking together, sharing minor details about themselves. While walking, Han stopped Luke and pointed his car key at his face. 

“This is a date. I’m considering this a date. I want this to be a date.” He tightened his lips and made eye contact with Luke’s wide blues. Luke took another big bite of his pretzel. He intentionally shifted his eyes up and to the left, giving Han every indication that he had to “think hard” about it. Han still had the key in his face. He was still looking at him… Jesus, the man was looking at all of him. “Well,” Luke thought briefly, “at least feelings are reciprocated.” It was Luke’s turn to be blunt. “What if we just postpone the rollerblading for an hour or two?” he asked softly, licking sugar off his fingers, looking up through his eyelashes up at this absolutely beautiful goblin. 

The key in his face fell an inch and a half as Han’s eyes snapped back up to meet his. 

“What’d you have in mind?” 

Luke started walking again, waited for Han to catch up, and then wrapped a hand around his waist and let it rest on the cute butt he had so many thoughts about in such a short time span. Han’s head whipped down to look at Luke, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze, choosing instead to grin and look ahead at the only car in front of them. “At least it’s big enough for the plans I have,” he thought, looking at the shitty silvery-white station wagon. 

They’d been silent and Han was confused. He’d expected it to take longer than this to get with the kid. And why the fuck was he even here, the kid called him a bitch! He should’ve just punched him in the stomach, let him double over, and left. Now he’s the one being escorted to his OWN CAR by this little twink blonde brat who was too damn pretty and smart-mouthed for his own good. He smiled widely, knowing that this was obviously way more preferable than shitty moldy-skates, screaming-children infested rollerblading. “Ayy,” he thought, grinning. “About to bang the hell outta this bitchy little pretty boy.” 

They reached the station wagon, and in an attempt to get the upper hand, Han grabbed Luke’s wrist and dragged him over to the side of the car shielded from the view of the rest of the parking lot. He pushed him up against the passenger side door and leaned in to his ear before whispering “is this what you had in mind?” 

He leaned back, looking over his face just like the kid did to him when he had the poor soul lifted by the shirt front. He really was pretty. What the fuck. 

Luke was looking back up at Han with a bit of a smirk. He surreptitiously stuffed the pretzel wrapper in his front pocket with his free hand. He used that hand to wrap around Han’s neck and drag his nails lightly across the skin there. “Hmm… almost,” he mocked back before his hand on Han’s neck stiffened and yanked him down so they were face to face. 

“…Almost…” Han whispered, looking at the kid’s lips. They were like flower petals. He had to know. He had to be aware. Maybe he hung out in public places, luring poor souls like Han to doom, like a goddamn siren. He gently leaned in and laid his mouth on Luke’s. There was so much innocence and genuine intent behind that first kiss… so gentle and reassuring and just plain lovely. Then it all got real dirty real quick. 

 

Han used Luke’s surprise at the softness of the kiss to break his hand away from his neck. He grabbed Luke’s other hand and slammed his wrists above his head and against the frame of the car (Luke dropped his H&M bag. Obviously he didn’t give a damn). Holding his arms there, he ran his tongue along the kid’s bottom lip. Luke opened his mouth in an endearing little sigh of content, and Han nibbled the same place he just went over with his tongue before taking advantage of Luke’s sigh and deepening the kiss. He realized a few seconds into this that he and Luke weren’t separated—they were joined to the point that, when looking at the ground, Han’s toes actually were behind Luke’s heels. He could feel Luke’s hip bones on his. He smirked. 

Luke tugged at his hands, wanting to run them all over Han’s chest. He was FUCKING RIPPED, Jesus. He felt his hard body against his own and wanted to feel the actual texture of it, wanted to run his tongue up the side of the man’s neck. Han released his hands and stepped back. Both of them were panting and looking at each other like they were deciding what to do next, like they were looking for assurance in the other person that they should continue. 

“Yeah?” panted Han. 

“Yeah. Yes. Yeah,” breathed Luke. 

Han yanked the back door open. Luke smiled widely when he saw the mess of comforters and pillows in the back, posters plastered along the walls of the inside. It looked like an emotionally fragile punk kid’s teenage bedroom, but Luke didn’t give a shit. He wrapped his fingers in the front of Han’s shirt, laying kisses on his chest and shoulders and pushing him inside of the car, falling over the blankets. 

Both were giggling. Luke, sitting on Han’s hips, could feel his dick hardening. He giggled more when he thought about how he wished it’d be small in his blind anger. He was glad that (by the feel of things) he was being proved wrong. The algorithm had fucked up when it came to this bitch. He bent forward like a cat, hands underneath of Han’s shirt, slowly raising it until his hands and the shirt reached Han’s clavicles and Luke’s ass was in the air. He looked up through his eyelashes again and gently stripped off Han’s shirt. 

He giggled. A lot. Not because Han was scruffy-lookin’, quite the contrary. He was gorgeous, muscular, tan. Luke was just so goddamn happy that he was there at this moment and that this was happening. He bounced up and down a bit out of excitement, and Han had to still Luke’s hips—they were causing a lot of collateral damage. Luke made quick work of his own shirt, sitting up to whip it over his head before leaning down and kissing the man below him deeply. He ran his hands down Han’s chest, nails trailing down, finding out what made the man twitch. Luke grinded his hips down into Han’s, and Han bucked upwards, groaning into Luke’s mouth. Luke smirked and did it again. 

“Alright, you fucking tease,” Han murmured into when they both came up for breath. He wrapped his arms around Luke’s back, seemingly pulling him into another kiss, until he flipped them both so he was on top. Luke whined loudly, a little pissed off that he’d been tricked. Han sat on his legs and undid the buckle on Luke’s belt. He whipped it off and popped open the button on his jeans. Luke squirmed. Han slipped his fingers under the waistband of the jeans before pulling them down to reveal bright blue boxers. “Of course,” he muttered, before running a hand up the visibly hard length beneath the highlighter-hot pants. Luke rose into the friction, whining again. Han laughed. “Retribution,” he thought. He extended his hands in front of himself, exploring Luke’s chest as he let his mouth linger near the kid’s cock, letting his tongue drag up the undeniable tent in the ridiculous underwear. Luke whined louder, twitching under the man’s touch. Han quickly switched the roles of his ands and his mouth, his hands working on getting the kid’s underwear off while his mouth explored his chest. He sucked on the skin in front of him, leaving small purple circles in his wake. He reached Luke’s mouth again and gave him a very fleeting kiss before quickly ducking down to take the kid’s entire length into his mouth. 

Luke was writhing. Jesus, he thought this’d just be a hardcore make-out session or some shit but this guy knew his stuff. He’d studied for the exam. He’d passed with flying colors. Hell, he could be the professor of the goddamn class. He was trying to restrain himself from shoving himself into Han’s mouth, but GOD it was difficult. He felt like he wasn’t even there—he was having an out of body experience while getting blown by a pretty stranger in a station wagon. All he was able to do to warn Han about the impending release of exactly 45 minutes of sexual tension was a series of hard slaps on the shoulder. It got the message across—Han pulled back and sat on his heels, grinning. 

“He still has his pants on,” Luke thought, miffed. He sat up, panting and painfully hard, with the sole mission of getting this (hopefully literal) fucker’s pants off. A few seconds of an unhelpful Han later, and the mission was accomplished. Luke was satisfied to see Han was also hard. Not as hard as he was, but Han wasn’t the one who’d just been almost sucked dry like a goddamn Capri-Sun. Luke could fix that. 

He shimmied up and sat on Han’s hips again, leaning down to suck hard on the man’s neck. Han wriggled under Luke’s ministrations, claiming that “it tickles, dammit!” but Luke wanted there to be visible signs of sex for him to answer to later. Again, a few seconds of an unhelpful Han later, the mission was accomplished. He gave the same treatment to the rest of Han’s chest, leaving a trail of hickeys down the man’s torso like some kind of fucked up Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb path. For the first time, Luke actually saw Han’s dick, and, like he’d already half realized, he was huge. Son of a bitch. 

Luke was a lot more deliberate to begin with, licking a stripe up the bottom of Han’s cock to the tip, where he circled his tongue around before taking Han completely in his mouth and proceeding the same way Han did—mercilessly—until Han had to pull the kid off of him. He sat up and reached into the glove box and pulled out a pretty high-end brand of lube. 

“So this is what you save up $4.00 for,” Luke remarked, wiping his mouth with his forearm. 

“Maybe. Or maybe I just claim it’s expired and save another $4.00,” Han quipped before bending over the pretty-boy beneath him. “Still a ‘yeah’?” he asked, waving the tube in front of Luke’s face. 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, “but don’t forget to save some energy for roller skating.” 

Han rolled his eyes. He hoped that’d been taken off the table under the circumstances. He emptied some of the lube on his fingers and began preparing Luke, who was an absolute writhing and wriggling mess underneath of him. 

***Meanwhile, outside the Station Wagon***  
“Dude, what the fuck is that?” the girl asks her friend.  
“What’s what?” responds Leia, taking a sip of her drink.  
“I hear moaning. Do you hear moaning?”   
Both women pause, looking at each other and looking towards the car near them. They lean in and hear an unmistakable moan coming from the back of the car. The car starts to shake a bit and, giggling, both girls start to walk away.   
“Ayy, I mean, as long as someone’s getting some. God knows I’m not,” says Leia, rolling her eyes.

“Han. Han. You need to stop, or I’m gonna— Jesus.” Luke was trying to avoid any contact with his dick, knowing he’d come at the drop of a hat if he got any more friction. 

Han smiled smugly and leaned in, fingers leaving Luke. He kissed him gently again and looked him in the eyes when they broke apart. 

“You ready?” Han asked, spreading more contents of the tube on his own very hard cock. God knows he was ready. 

Luke nodded frantically, hands searching for something to grab onto as Han lifted Luke’s hips up and locked his hands onto the underside of his wonderfully adorable ass. Luke’s hands found a metal bar behind his head, and he grabbed on, lifting his torso a bit off the mountain of sheets and blankets. Han slowly pushed himself inside, moaning loudly and letting out a constant stream of profanities peppered with Luke’s name. Luke just gasped and whined louder and louder until Han finally was completely inside of him. They locked eyes and both of their lips twitched upwards as Han pulled back before slamming back into the hot compression that was Luke’s body. Han’s arms started shaking; it wasn’t that Luke was heavy, Han was just so close to the edge. He hoped the kid was near there, too. 

Luke was about to fucking combust. Hearing Han moan and groan his name was nearly enough on its own to send him over the edge. He warned Han again, politely smacking him on the shoulder again. 

Han got the message. He began plowing into Luke, who let out the loudest, sluttiest moan Han’d ever heard. With the sound of their skin together and Luke moaning, he was seconds away from release. He held Luke with one arm while the other hand brushed Luke’s leaking cock once before Luke came hard, shooting all the way up to his own neck. Han came at nearly the same time, Luke’s tightening sending him way over the edge. His rhythm stuttered and slowed until he lowered the kid onto the blankets and pulled out of him. 

They laid there for a few minutes, panting, before Han reached into the glove box again to retrieve paper towels to clean themselves off. Once they were clean, Han reached up and switched on the radio. Luke laughed loudly as that one goddamn Rick Astley song came blasting through the stereo. They got dressed and got out of the car, looking at each other for a second before Luke snatched his bag off of the ground and climbed into the passenger seat. 

“Let’s go. I don’t wanna be late for the space-skate,” he said determinedly, rifling through the H&M bag before turning up the volume on the stereo and pointing out of the car window at a defeated Han, singing:

“NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!” 

Han sighed, trying to hide his smile, and got into the driver’s seat. 

“Rollerskating it is, I guess. But you’re not allowed to laugh if I fall on my ass.” 

“I definitely am, and I definitely will,” Luke remarked, pulling the seatbelt across his chest, wondering what the fuck he was thinking fucking a handsome stranger who pissed him off and then driving off in his FUCKING STATION WAGON TO A SKATING RINK (please don’t learn life lessons from this story). 

Han fell a lot and dragged Luke with him. Luke chose pink skates. They ate French fries and had chocolate milkshakes before leaving with bruised asses and (in Han’s case) a bruised ego. Before getting back in the car, Han said he actually bought something with Luke in mind, saying something about watching Luke in the store. Reaching into his own H&M bag, he pulled out the giant hair bows that had silhouettes of elephants and gold glitter covering the fabric.


End file.
